


daughter of the sea

by humancorn



Series: Thranduil & Ana [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Original Character is Kinda a Badass, Original Character is OP, Original Character-centric, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23725294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humancorn/pseuds/humancorn
Summary: Ana is a mage out to discover the world for the first time when she meets Thranduil, bloodied on an open battlefield. When she saves his life, her path changes forever.
Relationships: Thranduil (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s), Thranduil/Thranduil's Wife
Series: Thranduil & Ana [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178366
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	daughter of the sea

**Author's Note:**

> This story will also be posted in reader-insert format. You can find that linked here in a few days. 
> 
> I wrote this for myself. This story is entirely self-indulgent. I thought I would post it just in case anyone else out there also has a power fantasy about being a badass wizard. 
> 
> Not really looking for concrit on this so please don't comment if that's what you're looking to do.

It had almost been a quiet night. Almost, not that she minded much. Blood singing in her veins, the thrill of war upon her, it made for just as good a night as she’d have alone. The enemy battalion was made up of almost entirely orcs, most of whom were wielding nothing more than wooden bows or crude blades, and that almost made it too easy. The only thing she would have to worry about was brushing the twigs and underbrush out of her fur-edged coat once she was done here. 

It had been long since her kingdom had been to war, longer since any other had called upon them for aid and her fingers were itching to sink her longsword into something more than wood and clay. It had surprised her when she’d received a summons from the woodland elves, pleading for any aid Valaria could rightly give. It wasn’t like the Greenwood was a distinct ally of her kingdom, nor were elves in general. Valaria kept more company with dwarves, you see, and that was not something elves tended to be fond of.

Far off were the sounds of clashing metal, the guttural moans and growls of war, and she made her way toward them, hungry. Sunlight filtered brighter through the trees ahead -- a clearing -- and as she moved closer, Ana could hear a soft rustling, distinctly too loud and persistent to be an animal. Ana slowed, edging around the clearing just long enough for her eyes to adjust to the light. There were bodies littered around, some orc and some elven, none moving, nothing to make the rustling sound she'd heard. Perhaps it had been an animal after all. She would be the first to admit she was often overeager to -- one of the bodies moved, it’s fingers digging deep into the soil and pulling, trying to drag itself forward only for the soil to give way to crumbling chunks of earth. 

Ana stepped into the clearing as the elf gave an exasperated growl, trying once more to gain purchase in the damp soil to no avail. The elf heard her approach, their head turning toward her, eyes locked on hers. As she stepped closer, kneeling next to them, she made out the distinct copper of fresh blood just before she saw it, seeping slowly through the elf’s armor. If the blood staining the grass beneath them was theirs, they’d lost a considerable amount already. Likely a lost cause at this point. 

She studied the elf’s face. Their eyes were dull, face ashen, lips stained with blood that was quickly turning dark with oxidation -- they’d been here a while. A lost cause. A lost life in the heat of war. Nothing unusual, and yet? Her magic thrummed beneath her fingers, calling out, pulling her toward them. Ana shook her head, sighing, and reached out a hand to brush the elf’s hair further out of their face. 

“What is your name?” She asked, because at least a name would comfort loved ones. A name would not be forgotten, a name lived on even when the body did not.

The elf bared its teeth, almost as if they were trying to scoff at her, but the pain and position prevented them from doing so. 

“If you’re here to kill me,” They paused, eyes darkening just the slightest bit as they coughed out a chuckle, “Just do it already.”

Ana grinned. Feisty. She liked that. “Do you think you could stand?” She offered her hand and the elf stared at it for a moment before curling their fingers around it as she stood. Carefully, she pulled them to their feet, slinging their arm across her shoulders to support their weight. The sun would set within the next two hours and the image of being lost in the forest with orcs all around was not something Ana wanted to do tonight. As slow as she could, she dragged the elf over to a large stone at the edge of the clearing, settling him down on it. 

Ana kneeled before him, facing away, and gestured for him to hop on her back. It would be faster this way. Tenuously, he reached out, arms circling her neck, legs slotting themselves on either side of her hips. He was almost concerningly warm against her back as she stood, looping her arms under his legs to keep him in place. 

“Do you know which way your camp is?” Ana could feel them tense against her, and while they may not have been an actual threat, it concerned her for a moment that the elf may try to pull a blade on her. Instead, they swayed, almost causing Ana to lose her balance as their body wracked with coughs.

“West,” They whispered, voice rough, “Just beyond the treeline.” 

West, where the sounds of war echoed. Her mind repeated lost cause, slow you down, over and over as she stepped out of the clearing and into the woods. Blood was trailing behind them and any orcs nearby would catch the scent, be able to follow them. Lost cause, slow you down. The elf sagged heavier against Ana’s back and she could feel their head drooping against her shoulder. That wasn’t a good sign.

“So,” She began, and their head snapped up, focusing on her, “Could I get your name now?”

The elf paused and for a moment Ana worried they’d lost consciousness, “Thranduil.” 

Ana nodded, smirking, “Thranduil, that’s Sindarin, correct?” Carefully, Ana hefted them over a fallen tree, eyes darting around as she caught a quiet rustle in the underbrush, which thankfully proved to be an elk as opposed to an orc. If this elf -- if Thranduil - had any chance of surviving at all, she had to get him back quickly and orcs would slow them down.

Thranduil didn’t correct her, nor did he offer anything else, and that was admittedly a bit frustrating. She needed to keep him awake. Needed to keep him talking. 

“Thranduil is a nice name. What does it mean?” She chanced, and he sighed.

“Vigorous Spring.” 

“That fits you,” They were closer now, what seemed to be the active battleground was not too far off. 

“How would you know?” His voice was softer now, his chest heaving with every pause like it was a struggle to get the words out. He was having trouble breathing and the grip on her neck loosened, body falling slack. Quickly, Ana hiked him up, fingers gripping tight into his thighs as she moved faster. Only a little while longer. 

They lapsed into silence as Ana attempted to climb over a rough patch of fallen trees. She could see light now, could see the edge of the forest. But every step she took, more noise sounded around her. The cries of war were closer, ever closer. Thranduil sagged against her again and she called out his name, soft at first, and then louder once more as he did not answer. He let out a soft huff and tightened his grip around her neck. Ana let out a sigh of relief, only to have it loosen again moments later.

“So,” Ana started again, louder than she probably should be, “what are you going to do, Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, when this war is over?” 

“What?” Thranduil scoffed.

“When the war is done. When you’re recovered. What are you going to do? What do you  _ want _ to do?” Ana questioned. Get him talking, keep him awake. 

“ _ When the war is over,  _ you say, as if we have any chance of winning.” Ana could feel his breath on her neck, soft as it was inconsistent, “I know you know I’ve lost a lot of blood. Even if the war is won, I certainly won’t be around to see it.”

Ana sighed, “Come now, you’re young. Surely you’ve dreamed of something.”

Thranduil stayed silent, but his grip on her remained strong. A long moment passed as she continued to make her way through the forest, and just as she could feel his breath ghosting her neck once more, his mouth open to finally give her an answer - her foot caught on something, tipping her forward. Thranduil’s weight on her back added to the momentum, sending them tumbling through the underbrush. Ana took most of the impact, though she could hear Thranduil groaning behind her, quiet and low. 

It was then that she heard them - the hushed sound of feet on the path next to them. She dipped low, pressing herself down into the dirt in hopes they wouldn’t look over, wouldn’t see them. Slowly, she moved Thranduil off her back, covering him with leaves as quietly as she could. The footsteps drew closer, just a few feet away, and she could hear the growling tones of the language orcs spoke among themselves. Only two or three of them, from what she could gather. They drew closer and Ana knew she wouldn’t be able to stay hidden for long - the bright whites and blues of her overcoat stuck out in the forest. Subtly, she scoffed to herself, stealth, neither were tactics she needed often. 

“Where did you go, Lulgijak? We will find you~” The lead orc growled, eyes scanning the forest. Ana watched as he moved closer, toward her hiding spot in the underbrush. His eyes swept over her at first and for a moment, she breathed a sigh of relief, only to curse as he focused back on her seconds later. They made eye contact for a split second before Ana jumped from the brush, discarding the overcoat and moving in front of Thranduil’s still-covered body. 

“How about you move along,” Ana said, grinning as she clasped her hands behind her back, drawing silent runes on the palm of her left hand.  _ Kongemorder _ was in her hand moments later, ready to taste blood for the first time in millennia. Two with bows and one with a great axe, all trained on her, ready to fight. There was a moment of quiet where none moved and Ana thought they may be considering her offer. But then, the lead orc let out a low chuckle. 

“What’s a little girl like you doing lost in the forest, eh?” He drawled out in Westron as he lowered his axe, mouth twisting into a gnarled smirk.  _ Ah _ , Ana thought,  _ an idiot. Perhaps this will be over sooner than she thought.  _ One of the orcs behind him raised his bow, trained it at her center, but didn’t let the arrow fly. The angle meant that if she dodged, it might hit Thranduil buried in the brush behind her, and he couldn’t take another hit. Not with all of the blood he’d already lost. 

The lead orc let his smirk fall as he took a step toward her. Ana didn’t move, just kept her eyes focused on the orc with an arrow raised to her. 

“What’s a human doing all the way out here?” The lead orc said.

“Not a human.” Ana rolled her eyes. As the orc got within a few feet of her, Ana drew  _ Kongemorder,  _ pointing it tentatively at the leader to keep distance between them, “I said move along, did I not?” 

The leader’s face twisted into a grimace, stopping in his tracks as the blade glinted in front of him. He looked at Ana, chest puffing out in anger, “You think you can take three of us with a kitchen knife,  _ girl _ ?” 

Ana’s lips twisted into a smile, a soft, slow laugh bubbling from her lips, “Your funeral.” 

The lead orc snapped, his knuckles going white as he brandished his greataxe, swinging it wildly above his head to incite his crew into action. There was a rush of wind as the lead orc brought his axe down, aiming straight for Ana’s skull.  _ Kongemorder  _ raised, Ana swiftly sliced through the wooden handle of the greataxe, throwing the orc off balance. The blade missed her by mere centimeters, falling to the ground with a muted thud in the underbrush. 

Two soft clicks sounded out, and Ana managed to block one of the arrows - the one trained at her neck, but the other hit her thigh. It went clean through. all she could feel for a moment was the sharp sting of stone moving through her flesh. Quick, as the lead orc adjusted, Ana pulled a knife from her belt. She threw it at the orc that hit her, whispering “ _ ramte sandt”  _ under her breath. The lead orc moved toward her once more, and she drove  _ Kongemorder _ into his neck, twisting as she pulled it from him moments later. Only a soft thud as he collapsed to the ground, just as his axe had. 

One bowman left. An arrow whizzed past her as she wiped the blood from  _ Kongemorder _ on her pants. As she looked at him, Ana could see a distinct tremble in the orc’s fingers as he readied another arrow. This one he aimed at her eye, but the shake in his hands made it warble off-kilter, and it hit a tree behind her with a solid thunk. Ana breathed, calling her magic to her hands. She willed it to form her bow, slotted a bolt, and let it fly. The orc wasn’t fast enough to run, wasn’t skilled enough to dodge, and it hit him square in the neck. He stayed standing for only a moment, hand rushing up to feel the bolt in his neck as blood soaked into the neck of his tunic. 

The forest was still then. None of the orcs moved, save for their blood pooling out from their bodies. In the quiet, Ana heard Thranduil’s soft groan from the underbrush. Ana quickly retrieved her knife and sheathed it back in her belt. A few quick runes drawn into the palm of her hand and  _ Kongemorder  _ was away as well. She picked up her discarded overcoat and moved toward Thranduil. Carefully, she lifted him up. There was blood smattered around his lips now, and Ana winced internally. Pulling a cloth from her belt  _ (one she typically used to clean her sword but, well, Thranduil didn’t have to know that),  _ she wiped away the blood. He grimaced as she tucked the cloth away once more and she could feel as his body gave a harsh shiver. Ana frowned and carried him over to a log, wrapping her overcoat around his shoulders as she maneuvered him so that he was on her back once more. They needed to get to his camp fast. 

“How are you feeling?” Ana said, setting a quick pace while also trying not to jostle him as much as possible.

“Oh, just marvelous.” Thranduil scoffed, another coughing fit taking him. His arms hung weakly around her neck and she could feel how cold they’d become. The treeline was just ahead, though, edging closer every step. Bodies became a more frequent sight, scattered on and off the main trail, mostly orcs, but Ana could make out a few with silver-shining elven armor. Evening sun broke through the trees as they thinned, casting long shadows into the forest. 

Thranduil shifted on her back and came to rest his chin on her shoulder.

“I will speak my tongue beyond enemy lines to guide you to our camp. You know Sindarin, correct? Thranduil’s breath ghosted the shell of her ear as he whispered. 

“Yes, though I admit I’m not fluent. Keep it simple.” A few steps and they’d be in the open, moving slower than she’d like. 

In Sindarin, Thranduil breathed, “Twenty paces east, ten north, you will see a tree, whisper "thûl nu" and place your hand on the second branch from the ground.”

Ana nodded just as they broke the treeline, heartbeat quickening as she met the scene before her. Quick, she dropped her eyes to the ground, counting her steps as she broke into a sprint. There were heavy footfalls behind her, more orcs. Fifteen steps, twenty - a sudden turn to the north, and the footfalls stumbled behind her. Not far behind, but maybe just enough to buy time to get into elven land, where Thranduil would have allies who could take him in and give Ana just enough time to draw  _ Kongemorder  _ once more. Ten paces north and Ana spotted the tree - a tall, dark wood with a few low-hanging branches. 

She reached for the branches, wrapped her fingers around the tough bark, and whispered as quiet as she could, “thûl nu”. 

The branch moved beneath her fingers just as she felt Thranduil pulled hard off of her back. Ana turned, made a quick grab for Thranduil and managed to barely catch his ankle as the orcs tried to drag him off. Just as she grabbed him, she felt something tug at the back of her coat from behind, swiftly pulling them both into the darkness. 

Ana brought her fingers together with a snap, muttering “brænde lyse” before the panel leading to the battlefield closed. Fire sprung from her fingers, small and controlled, just enough to see her surroundings. A narrow underground tunnel came into view in front of her and the elf that had dragged her in through the panel looked horrified. 

The elf pushed her aside -  _ rude -  _ scrambling over to Thranduil. 

“ _ My prince,”  _ the elf said, his voice trembling as he brought one of Thranduil’s arms over his shoulders and hoisted him into a standing position. Thranduil groaned, eyes closed, as the other elf moved past Ana, making his way as quickly as he could down the corridor. The pair slipped out of sight and suddenly Ana was alone. 

She stood for a few moments, considering her options. She  _ could  _ head further into the corridor, see if she could find anyone to give her directions, maybe try to find the elf that had called for Valerian aide. Ana paused, smiling as she stared into the fire flickering above her fingertips. She snapped again and the flame went out. Carefully, she felt around the frame of the panel that had let her into the corridor. It only took a few moments to find the lever that released the lock. Pushing it open, she could see the clearing they’d just come through open before her. Two armies blended together on the battlefield, the true chaos of war. 

Ana stepped out of the corridor, up onto the ground of the clearing, and shut the panel behind her, making sure to hear the click of the lock before she moved out. In the middle of the field, Ana could see, towering above all others: a warrior. A headpiece with long spikes jutting toward the heavens, tarnished silver shining dully in the low-set sun.  _ Now that,  _ Ana grinned,  _ that seems like a challenge.  _


End file.
